Tales of Four Nations
by LilyAmelia
Summary: Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes. Chapter 12: Pas-de-deux
1. The Art of Brewing

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

 **The Art of Brewing**

Prompt:  
 _Write a story about a seemingly insurmountable obstacle._ Choose **one** of the following emotions to be included: fear, happiness, hope, regret, sadness. Minimum of **300 words  
** Words: 670

* * *

Iroh has faced more than his fair share of challenges throughout his reasonably long life thus far. He's been brother to a power-hungry prince itching to overthrow him as heir to the Crown, has led armies out to war. He's lost countless soldiers, friends, a _son,_ to a cause he now knows was hollow and perfidious. He's followed his banished nephew out to sea in what was considered a hopeless quest for the Avatar.

Not many of these things, however, have been as challenging as teaching said nephew- now Firelord- to _brew tea._

He remembers the first attempt as if it were yesterday. 'Bracing' had been the generous description of a loving uncle. Serving in the tea shop had not done much to improve his skills.

Nevertheless, Iroh firmly believes that the ability to brew a _perfect_ cup to be of the utmost importance. Therein lies the key to becoming the leader he knows the young bender can be. He has therefore taken it upon himself to teach his nephew the art of brewing.

An impossible task, maybe.

But Iroh is a man of faith, and Zuko has never been one to back down from a challenge- he _did_ find the Avatar, after all.

 _Choose your tea leaves carefully. It is the very foundation_ _on which rests your drink. Withered too fast, the tea becomes harsh and bitter. Too slow- the stewing diminishes the quality._

The second attempt, two weeks after the coronation, causes Iroh to shudder visibly and Zuko glowers. He storms off to his study, muttering about 'hot leaf juice' and 'dealing with incompetent ministers'.

 _Ginseng soothes the mind and the body. Jasmine boosts your health and gives you strength._

He doesn't even drink the third attempt; at the sight of the thick, black sludge at the bottom of the pot, Zuko sends it flying across the kitchen and they both hear the delicate porcelain smash against the wall.

"That was my third favorite set."

At the door, Zuko stiffens. "Sorry, Uncle. I'll buy you a new one." With a tense bow, he disappears through the doors.

Iroh doesn't miss the roar of frustration that echoes down the hall.

 _Infused too shortly, it lacks flavour and potency. Too long, the bitterness infiltrates the taste buds, spoils the pleasure and effect._

Subsequent attempts all end in various degrees of failure, and Iroh sees the mounting frustration in his nephew's tense shoulders over the last couple of months. War has had a negative impact on the Fire Nation's economy, and the colonies are an inevitable topic of discussion at each council meeting. Zuko's buried in paperwork and endless meetings, and it's starting to show in the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.

"It's _tea_ ," he grits out in frustration. "It shouldn't be _this hard."_

He closes his eyes and breath. In and out, in and out.

"I can do it." He's talking about the tea, Iroh knows, but it's also about _more_.

The determination in his face is oddly familiar, and Iroh believes him.

 _Water at the right temperature, leaves plucked and dried just so, carefully monitored infusion time and a generous helping of patience: those are the ingredients to the perfect cup of tea._

The final attempt- Iroh has lost the exact count, but it must be around the thirty-sixth or thirty-seventh- takes place in Zuko's study. He watches his nephew carefully boil the water in the pot with his palms, and drops the leaves. The expression of utmost concentration on the young man's face brings a smile to his face, one he quickly dissimulates under a mask of impassiveness. Zuko perks up after a moment and pours golden liquid into a cup, before handing it to his uncle with care.

Iroh takes a sip under Zuko's wary eye- and beams.

His happiness is only rivaled by the pride etched in his nephew's fine features.

 _Never give up without a fight._

"You brew, nephew, like you bend and rule. And live."


	2. Feels like the first time

A/N: Piece for the first round of the Pro-bending circuit

Words: 853

Bonus prompts:  
\- (color) yellow  
\- (smell) grass  
\- (song) Feels like the First Time (by Foreigner)

* * *

 **Feels like the first time (very first time)**

She doesn't remember the moment she came to realize water was _everywhere_. She just knows that suddenly, she could feel it in the moisture in the air, in the plants around her, in the sweat on her brow, in every single cell of her body.

She's always been a talented waterbender, the most gifted one in the South. It comes easily to her- the forms, the mastery of her element. She loves the power it gives her.

So yes, she can't quite remember _not_ sensing water _._ It has _always_ been there. It was natural, it was obvious.

It was all hers, at her beck and call.

She remembers, however, the first time she _bloodbends_.

She spots the elephant rat urinate on the floor of her cell and she _knows_ , she knows that all living things are just sacks of water, waiting to be used. Waiting to be mastered by the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe.

The full moon calls to her, spilling light into her cell and strength surges through her limbs. The spirits, it seems, have given her their blessing. Because her power is a gift, one she intends to use.

After all, it's only fair. Firebenders have never hesitated to show her the extent of _their_ power. It's only right, she thinks, to return the favour.

She won't be their prisoner anymore.

So she raises her arms and bends her fingers into claws, and _pulls_. She watches, enraptured, as the elephant rat stiffens, leans on its hindquarters, and turns. She feels its blood quiver and thrum under her fingertips. She feels its _fear_ seep through its veins.

Of course she remembers it, the pure exhilaration of having complete control. It's not something one forgets.

She thinks maybe the second time will feel different, but it doesn't.

Months pass, she practices and she expects the feeling to fade. It never does. It always feels like the first time.

 _Feels like the first time. And it feels like the very first time._

She knows it's only a matter of time before she's _ready_. Elephant rats are mere distractions, tools to help her hone her skill.

Her real enemy is the Fire Nation. She hasn't lost sight of that.

Another full moon comes, its glow filling her with intoxicating energy. She craves it, the feeling of dominance, the pure enforcement of will. So when a prison guard passes her cell, she shoots out an arm and flexes her fingers.

Total control.

She expects it to feel different with a man, but it doesn't. It feels... like the first time.

 _Like it never did before._

His eyes are wide with terror, his skin is ashen, and he reeks of sweat. His mouth opens to speak - or scream - but she has no time for that. With a flick of her wrist, she slams his mouth shut. His arm unnaturally reaches for the key ring hanging from his belt loop and she smiles.

It's only right that she should be freed by her keepers.

She forces him to lead the way, listening to his ineffective whimpers. Once they're out in the open, she releases just a fraction of her hold. The prison guard crumples to the ground, panting, and she hears him beg and beg and _beg_.

She lifts her face to the moon, and breathes in the smell of lush green grass beneath her feet, of the cool night air. Of freedom.

With one hand controlling the guard, she raises the other and bends water out of the grass and out of the air into a circle around her head. She watches as the grass turns yellow, then brown, before shriveling up and crunching beneath her feet. It's fitting, she notes, that freedom smells like water.

She relishes her power, but no one can know about it. Not yet.

With a last look at the guard (" _Please_ ," he begs) she briskly twists her fingers. The water turns into a multitude of tiny icy blades, that sink simultaneously into the body with a dull _thunk_.

She turns away without a parting look at the body, and walks off into the night.

She's free.

...

When she stumbles, many years later, across a group of children - including an enthusiastic, resourceful, _Southern_ waterbender - Hama smiles.

 _I've waited a lifetime._

She was starting to worry, after all, about what would happen to her legacy once she was gone. She isn't as young as she used to be.

 _Now that I've found you, together we'll make history._

She brings her to the woods at nightfall, under a full moon. The familiar feeling of unbridled power surges through her.

 _Feels like the first time. And it feels like the very first time._

She turns to the young girl, who listens to her, blue eyes wide. She's missed seeing blue eyes. They remind her of home. It's time to pass on her legacy.

 _Open up the door._

"What I'm about to show you," she tells her, "I discovered in that wretched, Fire Nation prison."

She has no doubt that the young waterbender - Katara - won't forget the first time she bloodbends, either.


	3. History, Let Us Be

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Prompt **:** (dialogue) 'say that again', minimum of 300 words

Words: 1,201 words

Summary: **  
**Firelord Zuko and young Iroh talk about fathers, family and expectations  
Warning for slight language.

* * *

 **History, Let Us Be**

Izumi falls in love and marries a smart, handsome Fire Nation nobleman, who turns out to be an abusive asshat once _baijiu_ hits his system. It takes a while, though, for the pattern to become obvious.

Five years and two children later, she kicks him out of the palace and their lives. After all, the Crown Princess doesn't need a shitshow for a husband. She has her children and nation to think about, and her decision garners the full support of the ones closest to her.

Especially her father. He never did like the smarmy bastard.

It's been two years now since his daughter has started single-parenting, and Zuko thinks she's doing a truly marvelous job (he could be biased).

It doesn't mean it's _easy_. He notices the hard lines around her eyes when her wedding anniversary approaches, and the short bursts of temper following the reception of a particularly scathing letter from her former husband.

Today seems like one of those rough days, if young Iroh Is to be believed.

"Grandpa," he asks, taking a sip from his cup. His eyebrows are pulled together in an expression of deep thought. It's adorable on a seven-year-old. "Can I ask you something?"

Etiquette lessons- including the proper manner to address one's elders- are a socially acceptable, not-so-subtly disguised form of torture required of Fire Nation royalty, and generally extended to its nobility as a whole. Iroh and Mizuki, however, have refused to call the Firelord anything other than 'Grandpa', despite their teacher's most fervent efforts. Zuko has come to accept it (he _likes_ it).

"It's 'may I'," he absently corrects his grandson, "and, of course."

He tosses bread crumbs towards the pond and leans back against the tree to watch the family of turtleducks waddle in their direction. (He knows the palace's every nook and cranny, but this spot remains his favourite, even decades later.)

Once a day, he takes an hour to have tea with his grandchildren - his duties can wait for a while. Glancing at Iroh, huddled against his side, he smiles and brings his cup to his lips.

"What's a son of a wolf-bitch?"

Zuko doesn't answer straight away - he's too busy choking on Oolong.

"Grandpa?" Iroh's gold eyes are wide with alarm.

"Say that again? Wait- _No_ , don't! _Please_ don't."

"Why not? Mom did, when she was reading that letter this morning."

Zuko clears his throat. "It's, ah... not a very nice thing for a young prince to say. Your mother shouldn't have used those words in your presence."

The dark-haired boy reddens and lowers his head. "She didn't know I was there."

Intrigued, Zuko raises an eyebrow. "A young prince shouldn't be eavesdropping either." His lips twitch in amusement. "Or should know better than to admit it to the Firelord."

"I wasn't eavesdr-" Iroh hesitates, "- listening! Mom gets really _loud_ when she's angry!" He pulls his legs to his chest and drops his chin on his knees. The blush spreads to the tips of his ears. It's more than just embarrassment now- Zuko spots tell-tale signs of hurt and distress. "She was talking about father, wasn't she?" It's not a question.

Understanding blooms. "She probably was."

As Firelord, Zuko has had his fair share of issues to resolve after the war. A crumbling economy, food shortage, tax evasion, civil unrest- you name it, he's probably faced it. When it comes to family, however, it's a whole other Agni Kai.

It's not that he lacks experience in dealing with familial conflicts. One learns things from having a demanding grandfather, a power-crazed father, a mentally unstable sister, an absent mother and an uncle that thinks you're ready when really, you're _not_. Not yet.

He's always felt like he wasn't _enough_ , and feelings of inadequacy don't just fade, no matter how much paperwork you try to bury them under. Self-blame doesn't disappear with the number of peace treaties signed.

"Iroh," he calls gently, placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. He catches the young boy wiping the corner of his eye with his wrist. "Whatever's going on between your mother and father has nothing to do with you. Or your sister."

It's been two years now, but he remembers it like it was yesterday. Holding his daughter close, brushing his lips against her temple as she rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. _"Sometimes, sweetheart, it's worse to have a bad father around than to not have a father around at all._ "

Iroh tries- and fails- to hide a sniff. He nods.

"Mom said he did some...bad things." The words come out as whispers. "I don't miss him. Not really. He never loved us like mom or you do. Or like you love mom."

And Zuko _does_. His daughter is the best and brightest thing that's ever happened to him in the tragicomedy that is his life. He's far from the perfect father, he knows that, but he's tried- is _still_ trying- so hard.

Iroh isn't finished. "But he's my father. What if-," his lower lip trembles, "what if I end up like him?"

Zuko's heart stutters. For a second, he's thirteen again, and the memory of his mostly forgotten scar burns.

Iroh the First would have found some soothing proverb to aptly describe the situation, but Zuko has never been very good at those. He opts for the honest truth, instead.

"You won't," he tells his grandson fiercely, tugging him close. "You may be his son, but you're _not_ him. It's a lesson I took a very long time to learn, but you're smarter than I ever was at your age. You'll pick it up soon enough."

He cups his grandson's face in his palms. "You'll grow up to be a fine, responsible young man, Prince Iroh. I have no doubt."

Iroh glances up and gives him a watery, but genuine, smile. "Thanks, Grandpa."

Laughter rings out as Mizuki rushes towards them, ponytail trailing behind. "Grandpa! I got a new dress for the Dragon Festival! You have to see it."

Her mother appears behind her, looking frazzled but satisfied. As soon as she spots her son's red nose and bloodshot eyes, however, she freezes. Stricken, she glances at Zuko, who nods with a grimace.

Izumi lowers herself next to her son. "Come here, turtleduck," she murmurs. "Let's go for a walk, okay? Let's talk for a while."

She takes his hand and hoists him up. Shooting her father a grateful smile, she guides Iroh indoors, the both of them talking in low voices.

"Is Iroh okay?" Mizuki looks at her brother's retreating form, worry etched in her pretty features.

Zuko, not for the first time, feels a twinge of guilt for the relief that spreads through him at the display of sibling concern.

"It's very nice of you to care about your brother, Mizuki. He's going to be fine. Now, tell me about that dress of yours."

"It's so pretty, Grandpa!"

A short laugh escapes him as she spins around to face him, amber eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're in luck, I have no meetings planned for this afternoon. Sit, young lady. Treat your old grandfather with tales of fancy clothes and festivals."


	4. Dark Side of the Moon

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Round 2 of FF's Pro-Bending Circuit

 **Prompts:  
** \- Blue,  
\- North Pole,  
\- "If we are completely honest with ourselves, everyone has a dark side to their personalities" - Isabella Rossellini

 **Word count** : 1,825 words

* * *

 **Dark Side of the Moon**

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

 _Breathe in._

Katara shuts her eyes. She raises her hands into the air and brings the water from the Spirit Oasis closer to her until it sits directly above her heart. Her brow furrows, focusing on healing the darkness that lies beneath her chest.

Nothing.

Undeterred, she lifts the water higher so it surrounds her head like a halo. In the quiet of the Oasis, she hears only her breath and that of her friend standing a little further away, interspersed with the occasional chatter of teeth.

Still nothing.

She drops her hands in frustration. The water falls onto her shoulders, but Katara pays it no mind.

"It's not working." Her voice cracks.

Zuko shivers and pulls the collar of his blue parka higher. He's elected to stand guard in the cold just outside the oasis, a bridge away from its warm atmosphere and lush greenery.

"Maybe it's not working," his reply is soft and tentative, but it rings out clearly in the quiet of the oasis, "because there's nothing that needs healing."

Katara leans back and shifts to face Zuko. "Maybe I'd be able to concentrate more if your teeth weren't clicking together so much!" She turns back to the Spirit Oasis and adds quietly, "and if you weren't so useless."

Guilt at her harsh words wells up inside her immediately. After all, Zuko has no reason to be here apart from the fact that _she_ asked _him_ to come with her. But, because of her anger and disappointment, and the fact that Zuko is here with her, she can't stop these feelings from overtaking her. Zuko always seems to bring out this side of her, and she hates it.

But it's actually part of the reason why she invited him to come to the North Pole with her, in the first place, too.

Nonetheless, Katara knows there's no excuse for yelling at Zuko. She shakes her head, appalled at her behavior. "I'm sorry. That wasn't...that wasn't very nice."

Zuko snorts. "That's like saying this frigid hellhole is just a little _chilly_."

"You didn't complain about the cold way back when you were running around after Aang." Katara raises an eyebrow and smirks. "What? Did chasing your honor fuel your inner fire?"

He scowls, and brings his gloved hands to his face, blowing warm air on them. "More than this ridiculous healing mission you're fixating on, anyway. Because there's absolutely _nothing_ _wrong_ with you or your bending."

"That's just it, Zuko! There is!" She bites her lip. "I've always had this...ugly part of me. A part that's jealous and petty. That's spiteful and angry. It just simmers there, beneath the surface- it's under control most of the time, but sometimes it rears up and it's..." Katara pauses, searching for the best word to describe her feelings, " _horrible_."

Zuko's eyes glow at her in the moonlit cove. "Katara, that's normal-"

"No, it isn't _normal._ " Katara clenches her fists. The water in the Spirit Oasis swells in time with her frustrations. "All those years ago, at the Western Air Temple, I wanted to hurt you. I thought you deserved to be punished. I actually _enjoyed_ bloodbending that Southern Raider, just for a moment. And there was a second when I genuinely wanted to _kill_ Yon Rha, too." She swallows and looks down at the ground by her feet. "Those feelings were frightening. I thought after...that, I had let go of that dark part of myself."

She lets out a breath, and absentmindedly bends a sliver of Spirit water around. "But it's still there. Sometimes it's this burning jealousy, like when Aang insists on impressing those Air Acolytes. I mean, we're married! I'm not supposed to feel like this anymore. Or when you asked Aang to...put a stop to you." Her eyes flicker in his direction to find him staring at her, "You know, if you ever started acting like your father...He was distraught. And what did I do? I just agreed with you!"

Her eyes start to water.

"Katara." His voice falters at the last syllable.

With one last careful look at their surroundings, to make sure it's safe, Zuko crosses the bridge and takes a seat beside her. He lets out a small contented sigh when the warmer air of the cove hits his skin.

He nudges her with his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry for putting you in that position. Thing is, I know you'd never hurt me if you could help it." She mumbles a half-hearted protest in jest, and his lips quirk in a smile. "But I also trust you to make the right decision for the greater good when the time comes- whether it's slapping the daylights out of me or killing me." He pauses and rubs the back of his head. "I'd prefer the first option if possible, of course."

She sniffles and chokes out a chuckle. "You make that choice so hard..."

Zuko doesn't say anything for a moment, then breaks the silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nods against his shoulder, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Why me? Why didn't you come with Aang? Don't you trust your husband with this?"

Katara has been wondering when this particular question would pop up. She mulls over her answer. "It's not a matter of trust. He just... he wouldn't understand." It's the truth. The others see her a certain way- the mothering nurturer, the patient and understanding wife, the responsible sister, the reliable friend- they don't know this particular side of her. Maybe they've glimpsed it, Sokka most certainly has, but not to its fullest extent. Not in all its loathsome details. "None of them would."

Zuko, on the other hand, has seen that side in all its ugly glory. And more importantly, he _gets_ it. He gets her.

A few minutes pass before one of them speaks again. It's Zuko who breaks the silence. "If we're completely honest with ourselves, everyone has a dark side to their personalities."

Katara tilts her head to look at him. "Is that an Uncle Iroh quote?" Zuko does have occasional moments of startling insight, but that can't be from him. It's too polished, too philosophical.

A genuine laugh escapes the firebender. "Strangely, no." His expression sobers before he continues. "It's actually from a play entitled ' _The Dragon Warrior_.'" His eyes take on a glazed, distracted look. "Forbidden love, Kou Ni-lian dilemmas... a much better play than ' _Love Amongst the Dragons_ ', if you ask me."

Katara blinks. "A what dilemma?" The direction this conversation is taking is a welcome distraction from the deep-rooted anger she's now used to projecting onto herself.

Zuko flushes under his parka. "Kou Ni-lian dilemma- when a protagonist has to choose between two values of identical importance. Say, love and honor, for example."

"Huh." Katara feels a smile grow on her face. _Figures_. "Is this how you wooed Ume?" She pokes his shoulder playfully. "With adorably nerdy literary knowledge?"

Somehow, he manages to turn even redder. "Shut up." He huffs. "The _point_ I was making, Katara, is that you're fine the way you are. Life isn't sunshine and rainbows all the time. You're not perfect, and that's okay. No one is, for Agni's sake. You've got a little darkness in you- but you've got it completely under control. If people can't accept that, it's their problem, not yours."

For years, she's hidden that part of her from her closest friends and family, scared of judgment- of rejection. But Zuko's words, said with such certainty and conviction, bowl her over. Katara feels her throat start to close up. She blinks, trying to hold back her tears. She will _not_ cry all over Zuko. _Oh Spirits. This is just humiliating now._

He doesn't notice _._ "Now you just have to accept yourself."

 _Thank Tui._ She nods vigorously, surreptitiously wiping the corner of her eyes with her mittens. "Thanks, Zuko." She gives him a watery smile. "That little speech isn't half bad."

Zuko shrugs. "It's easy when it's the truth. You don't have to like that part. You just have to acknowledge it's there, and live with it." He removes the scarf from around his neck and places it on her shoulders instead. Looping it gently around her neck once, he hands her one end of the scarf. He's looking at her with so much compassion and understanding that Katara feels herself flush. There's no point in hiding her tears anymore.

She grabs the end from him and presses her wet eyes against the thick wool. A small sob escapes before she can hold it in. She senses Zuko's hesitation at the current situation- crying women are probably not part of the Firelord's daily routine. He settles on awkwardly rubbing her back and Katara finds the action oddly soothing. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, as Katara tries to compose herself.

Once her sniffles subside, Zuko rises to his feet. He holds out his hand to her with a soft smile. "Come on. If you're ready, let's get you back home."

Katara grabs his arm and hoists herself up. Threading her arm through his, they cross the bridge together. Her healing might not have worked, but she feels lighter, somehow. She feels...whole, for the first time in a long time. She glances at the dark-haired man next to her. It occurs to her that Zuko has lived with lightness and darkness warring inside of him for most of his life. Having been fueled by rage for so long, he _literally_ lost his bending temporarily when he found some form of inner peace. _And well, look how he turned out_. She buries the lower half of her face in his scarf to hide her tiny smile.

She thinks of her qualities- the fierce protectiveness, the urge to help those in need- and realizes it's some form of anger that drive those intense beliefs. The two sides she's so intent on opposing share a common goal. They make her who she is. _I can do this. I can accept myself._ She closes her eyes and feels it again, that newfound lightness. _It'll take some work, but I think I've already started._

Reaching the frozen expanse just beyond the bridge, Zuko shivers again. "How do you _deal_ with this cold?" He whines as they step out of the warm bubble of the Spirit Oasis.

She looks up at her friend's anguished expression and grins. "You get used to it."

"I'm a firebender." He replies primly. "I'll never get used to it."

"Pity." Katara pats his parka. "You look good in blue."

Zuko pulls a face, but says nothing, opting instead to reply with a snort. Small tendrils of steam escape his nostrils and mouth.

"Sorry." She catches his eye and tries to put as much gratitude in her gaze as possible. _Thank you for accepting me._ "It's my dark side."

* * *

 **Notes:** Takes place a few years post-ATLA. The Gaang has settled down. Ume is Zuko's wife, of my own creation (Am thinking of using this one-shot in another fic so it's for continuity reasons.) Kou Ni is my take on Corneille, a French playwright.

Giant, GIANT thank you to my teammate, Attropus, for her amazing constructive criticism for this piece.


	5. I spy

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.

For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Round 3 of FF's Pro-Bending Circuit, season 4

 **Prompts** : "green" (color), "no dialogue" (restriction) and "lost in the supermarket" (plot)

 **Word Count** : 1,606 words

 **Summary** : A young Water Tribe girl seems to have lost something dear to her, and June, head of security at Blue Moon Mart, watches the search unfold behind her computer screen. Modern AU.

* * *

 **I Spy**

June returns from her fifteen-minute break with a pack of fireflakes and an extra-large cup of tea. She slumps onto her chair and drops her boot-clad feet on her desk with a thud, crossing them at the ankles. As head of security at Blue Moon Mart, a supermarket located in Little Southern Water Tribe, she thinks she's overpayed for someone who spends her time drinking tea and staring a computer screen.

She's never been one to complain, though. No, _sir_.

She stretches in her chair, arching her back and raising her arms above her head, before squirming in her seat to find the most comfortable position. She grabs the pack of fireflakes and turns her attention to the giant screen in front of her. Nine different camera angles flicker back at her.

Taking a sip from her cup, she settles her gaze on Camera 1. The entrance. A dark-haired teen walks in, clad in a maroon shirt and black pants. The picture is grainy, but June knows he has a scar on the left side of his face. She recognizes the young tea server from that little shop in Ba Sing Se Commercial Center. What's the name again? Ah, right, the Jasmine Dragon- 'freshly brewed tea and divine dumplings'. The owner is a strange, kooky old man, but nice enough. The tea and dumplings, though- _heavenly_.

The boy shoves his hands in his pocket and looks around. She's seen him around before, both at the tea shop and at Blue Moon Mart; there's something about him. June can't place it, but previous years of experience as a bounty hunter have taught her to study body language- and this boy here is no tea server. He stands too straight, he walks too stealthily. He exudes something almost... _royal,_ she thinks.

But that, of course, is ridiculous. No royalty will stoop to serving tea.

She can't blame Jin- a teenage girl that works here part-time- for the small crush she has on the boy. He _is_ good-looking, despite the scar. June squints. Maybe just a little _too_ pouty.

Interest now piqued, she tracks his movements, and switches over to Camera 3. The breakfast aisle. Tea, coffee and cereals abound. She watches him as he suddenly pauses, staring at the ground. He crouches and picks something up. It glints under the neon lights. June lets out a dramatic gasp, her lips spreading into a gleeful smile. Is he _stealing_ something? The former teenage rebel in her relishes this possible demonstration of illegal activity. _However,_ she's head of security, so she _should_ probably do something about zooms in.

Oh. _Oh._ No, that definitely does _not_ belong to the supermarket.

The object in question vanishes in his fist and into his pockets. At that very moment, a flurry of movement over on Camera 1 catches June's attention. A pretty dark-skinned brunette storms in, gesticulating wildly to a shorter girl in a green dress beside her. Three other teens stumble in behind them: a tall boy with a wolf-tail bearing a striking resemblance to the first girl, a bald teen decorated with blue arrow tattoos, and a third beautiful young lady with more poise than her four comrades combined.

Ah, it's the Gang. Regulars. Nice bunch of kids, if a little rambunctious. And with an uncanny ability to attract trouble wherever they go. Oh, _hell_ , this is going to be fun. She grabs a handful of fireflakes and stuffs them in her mouth.

The girl in green is pointing at her eyes, causing her interlocutor to pause and shrug in a way that June would describe, through her pixelized screen, as 'sheepish'. With what June swears is a smirk, the former flounces off and climbs in one of the exposed armchairs in the furniture section. She lets out a big yawn, then rests her chin on her palm and looks in her friends' direction. Oh, tiny Green Sassmaster. June _likes_ that one.

Undeterred, the brunette spins to face her companions. With her hands on her hips, she reminds June strikingly of a drill sergeant. Her subsequent arm movements- she's gesturing to the different aisles, seemingly attributing them to each of her friends- are doing nothing to soften the image.

Are they actually _saluting_ her? Spirits!

Blue Arrows whizzes off to the household items, scanning the ground left and right. Poise Incarnate strides towards the clothing section, occasionally crouching low, peering at the floor. Wolf-Tail whips out a magnifying glass and heads to the fresh foods corner.

It seems Sergeant Princess has lost something, and has recruited her friends in search of said object. Wait a _minute_ -

June's eyes hone in on Prince Pouty, who's hovering on the edge of Camera 3. He takes a step towards the brunette. She doesn't notice him, too busy staring daggers at Wolf-Tail. With what looks like an aggravated cry, she stomps over to Wolf-Tail and smacks him across the back of the head, causing him to drop the magnifying class and clutch his head in pain. Prince Pouty seems to have frozen in place as he takes in the scene. All it takes is for Sergeant Princess to cross her arms under her chest and spin on her heels towards the cosmetics counter for him to snap out of his daze. He slowly edges towards the entrance.

But he doesn't leave the premises completely. Camera 9 shows him hovering outside the main door, looking on at whatever's happening on the inside, before taking a seat on the edge of a small fountain in the supermarket's courtyard. He takes out the object from his pocket and stares at it.

It _may_ seem random, but there's a bet between her and Jet, one of the younger store clerks, about whether Prince Pouty and Sergeant Princess are dating or not. June has seen them interact before- not much, and nothing _explicit,_ but there's always an undercurrent. In fact, the whole bet started one hot July afternoon, after witnessing a particularly messy scene involving sea prunes and spicy chick-turkey. June had to forcibly separate the both of them before a kebab stick ended up in someone's eye, but the looks exchanged weren't venomous. _Ooh_ , no. Jet, however, is totally in denial- he thinks he has a shot with the pretty girl. Tsk. Delusional boy. June's always had an instinct for this sort of stuff.

Sergeant Princess is now done ransacking the cosmetics counter, and has moved on to baked goods. Is that thing really that valuable? June takes a sip of her now lukewarm tea and grimaces at the taste.

Poise Incarnate ends up in the vegetable aisle with Wolf-Tail, and they seem to have set aside the search in favor of searching each other's mouths. Blue Arrows has stumbled upon the dairy section and is peering curiously at authentic pots of Water Tribe yogurt. June thinks he's lost sight of the actual purpose of their little raid. Tiny Green Sassmaster seems to be shouting directions with a most gleeful expression.

Sergeant Princess pops up on Camera 2, then Camera 1. She's obviously frustrated when she steps out the doors. A breeze ruffles her long tresses as she heads towards the large oak tree that shades the supermarket's courtyard. Her back pressed against the trunk, she buries her face in her hands, elbows pressing against her stomach. June doesn't see the shadow approaching until Prince Pouty appears behind her. He's dangling the object June is now sure has some sort of extreme sentimental value over her shoulder, right next to her neck.

Sergeant Princess startles at the sudden movement at her back. Her eyes catch sight of the item and her mouth drops. She snatches it out of the boy's hands before twisting around to shove him roughly against the trunk. She reaches into her satchel and pulls out a bottle of water, the contents of which she promptly squirts all over the boy's face and torso.

June barely manages to swallow her mouthful of tea as she chokes with laughter.

Prince Pouty stands there, arms spread wide, trying in vain to shake off the excess water. Sergeant Princess stays rooted in her spot. Suddenly, to June's surprise, she holds out the object with one hand and lifts her hair with the other. June spots the way the young man's eyebrows raise and his lips curve into a smile. He takes the item from her and clasps it around her neck. For a moment, neither of them move. Then something shifts.

Sergeant Princess makes the first move, cupping his face and _sinking_ into his body. She doesn't seem to care that he's drenched in water- that _she_ poured, by the way- or that she's getting progressively soaked. They're wrapped in each other, supported by the old oak tree. Foreheads, lips, hands, legs- everything touches. Everything is gentle, a stark contrast to the girl's earlier actions.

The scene is strangely intimate, and June suddenly feels like she's intruding.

Which- she reflects wryly- technically, she _is._

Sergeant Princess steps away from the boy's embrace after a final peck on the lips. Shooting a last glance backwards, she heads towards the store's entrance with a grin on her face, a new spring in her step and a pendant hanging from her neck. Prince Pouty leans back against the tree with a slightly dazed look and a dopey smile.

June snorts and rolls her eyes. _Teenagers_.

Poor Jin is going to be heartbroken at the recent developments.

On the bright side, Jet totally owes her ten bucks now.


	6. As The World Burns

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Round 4 of FF's Pro-Bending Circuit, season 4

 **Prompts** :

\- silver (color),  
\- only one person can have dialogue (restriction)  
\- Fire Nation Capital (location)

 **Word Count** : 928 words

 **Summary** : Two girls grow up on opposite sides of the world, and come to terms with their destiny in a world without hope. AU

* * *

 **And So The World Burns**

A young girl decked in a blue parka struggles to lift a sliver of water from an ice hole. Sweat forms on her brow and her arms ache but she perseveres with a type of determination one only finds in children.

Her shoulders slump in defeat when the water unceremoniously plops back to where it came from for the twenty-third time, and she trudges back towards her family's igloo in silence.

-.-.-

A young girl dressed in formal red robes performs in front of an expectant public. Her father and grandfather watch as fire erupts from her palms, each move measured and controlled. Her chest swells with pride when she sees them smile. Her older brother watches her from afar, fists clenched, and she sees- she _feels_ \- the admiration and envy that radiates from him. Poor Zuzu. Looks like she got all the talent in the family.

And yet- her smirk falters- Mother still somehow loves him more.

She gives herself a mental shake.

It doesn't matter.

-.-.-

The dark-skinned brunette watches her brother closely. His gaze follows the tribe's men as they leave for war, torn between sadness and longing. He wants to be part of it. He's a man too, you know.

But he _can't_.

She's lost her mother. She's losing her father. She can't lose him, as well.

He's here for now, though. So she says nothing, and helps her grandmother pack the seal jerky in preparation for another cold, long winter.

-.-.-

The pale brunette skips down the palace corridors until she finds herself in front of her brother's room. She hears thrashing behind the thick wooden doors, and something that sounds delicate crashes against the wall. She doesn't bother knocking.

She finds him stuffing clothing into a bag. Burn marks cover large portions of the walls. A large white bandage is wrapped around half his face, a yellowish stain already starting to seep through. He's going to need to change that- maybe once he's on that ship.

"You shouldn't have done that," she tells him matter-of-factly. "You know Father hates it when we talk out of turn."

He doesn't answer, but his shoulders stiffen.

"You always were a bleeding heart. Personally, I think Father's right. But you were next in line for the crown. You could have changed things, with time."

It's subtle, but it's there. The slight widening of his eyes. He pales, looking deathly against the whiteness of the bandage.

"But now he's banished you. Sent you off on some wild goose chase, to get your _honor_ back. You _do_ know there's no such thing as the Avatar, don't you?"

She sees it in his eyes. _Azula always lies_. And it's true- she does sometimes. But she isn't lying now.

Why lie, when the truth can hurt so much more?

"Oh, Zuzu. You _never_ think things through."

She ducks away from the huge blast of fire barreling in her direction, slamming the door shut behind her.

Her brother's firebending has always been fueled by rage.

-.-.-

The waterbender gestures furiously at her brother. He's _not_ putting this boating accident on her again!

A loud, sudden crack catches both their attention, and a large sphere emerges from the depths of the ocean. They both stare at it, dumbstruck, before she grabs her brother's club and darts off towards the ice sphere. After minutes of incessant hits against the hard surface, a blue light erupts.

As the light subsides, the siblings take a careful step towards the cracked sphere.

Peering inside, they find a huge, six-legged furry creature. A flying bison.

There hasn't been a reported sighting of a flying bison since the Air Nomads genocide.

It seems to be alone.

-.-.-

The firebender leans against the balcony, looking over Capital City. It's her home. Her country. Her people.

One day, she'll be the one ruling them.

In the mean time, she's working hard. She derives her power from cold calculation, from complete control- the way a true master does. Her fire burns blue.

She knows it isn't enough, though. She attends every war council meeting with her father, she studies battle tactics. She learns the names and properties of every one of Mai's silver weapons- more importantly, she learns to dodge them. She spars with Ty Lee to increase her speed and agility.

She needs to do _more._

Her knuckles turn white as she grips the balcony railing.

She's going to be the best, most powerful Firelord the world has ever seen.

Better than her father ever was. Better than her banished brother could ever hope to be.

She'll show them all.

-.-.-

Readjusting the gold crown that sits on her head, she walks along Capital City Prison's chilly corridors. She passes rows of cells- Earth Nation, Water Tribe, Fire Nation rebels- the whole world, it seems, reunited in one place. It's almost beautiful.

One cell in particular, catches her attention. Their newest prisoner. A young woman from the Southern Water Tribe, caught traveling with her brother. They were overheard trying to ignite a rebellion in one of the Earth Kingdom colonies.

The waterbender hears her approach, and scrambles to her feet, gripping the iron bars. She exudes hatred and defiance, and Azula almost admires her for it. She may just have found a new favorite prisoner.

The woman spits. Azula just laughs. "You want us to burn, waterbender, and maybe we will. But not before you drown in the greatness of the Fire Nation." She raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Now. Bow before your Firelord."


	7. The Gift of the Avatar: Chapter 1

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Round 5 of FF's Pro-Bending Circuit, season 4

 **Prompts** :

\- (color) red and green  
\- (smell) gingerbread cookies  
\- (restriction) no dialogue  
\- (AU) musicians

 **Word Count** : 801 words

 **Summary** : Katara and Aang struggle to find a gift for each other during the Christmas season. Christmas AU based on 'The Gift of the Magi'.

* * *

 **The Gift of the Avatar: Chapter 1**

It was the morning before Christmas.

Inside a tiny, cluttered hut in the South Pole, a young woman named Katara sat at her dining table and stared forlornly at the eighty-seven cents cupped between her palms. The smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies wafting from the kitchen did nothing to soothe the ache in her chest.

Eighty-seven cents! What could one afford with eighty-seven cents?

Budding musicians were never paid much, let alone musicians in the South Pole, where manual labor was celebrated; where _frivolous_ activities such as _music_ were deeply frowned upon.

Did it matter that Katara and Aang put all their heart into their work? Did it matter that music was their life, that every note they produced was the result of hours of sweat and tears?

No. No, it did not.

She sighed.

Well, at least they had each other.

 _And eighty-seven cents_ , Katara thought miserably.

She shook her head. That wouldn't do! Aang deserved _more_ than this, he deserved the world. Unfortunately, Katara couldn't give him that, not this year. But she _had_ to give him something.

She glanced at their fir tree in the corner of their minuscule living room, sparkling with green blinking lights and shiny red baubles. It was small, ridiculously so, but decorated with care and great attention.

As legend would have it, the world was once in chaos; the Fire Nation waged war against the Earth Kingdom and created colonies, pillaged the Water Tribes and wiped out the Air Nomads. All that changed when the Avatar- master of all four elements- appeared, bringing balance to the world and restoring unity between the four nations.

Christmas was a celebration of the new era of peace, a commemoration of the harmony between the elements. Each household would honor such traditions by decorating their home with the colors that belonged to the other nations. Katara being from the Water Tribe and Aang an Air Nomad, their home twinkled with streaks of red and green, as tribute to the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom.

So, as the Avatar brought balance to the world, Christmas was a time to bring gifts to one's close ones, as a symbol of respect and appreciation, as well as a desire to preserve balance. And there was no one Katara respected or appreciated more than her boyfriend, Aang.

It almost physically hurt, to not be able to afford a gift.

Her eyes trailed around the messy living room to fall on his tsungi horn, propped up against a wall on the far side of the room. Ah, his most prized possession. Intricately carved with Air Nomad symbols, it was a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation to finally find its place between Aang's talented fingers and lips.

The wood was worn, but of remarkable quality; the acoustics of such an instrument were worth their weight in gold. It was a priceless instrument, really, and should be handled with the utmost care.

Wait, that's it. A case. That was exactly what the tsungi horn needed! A beautiful leather case, just like the one she saw in the music shop window display just the other day, when she had sent her waterphone for tuning.

Her eyes shifted to the waterphone in question, glinting beside the tsungi horn as a ray of sunlight caressed it just so through the window.

It suddenly hit her. Her waterphone was in pristine condition, and would surely fetch a handsome sum- just enough, she thought, to buy a tsungi horn case for her beloved.

She stood up and headed towards her waterphone. Something tightened in her chest at the mere idea of parting with her instrument, and she let out a shaky sigh. Trailing her fingers along the cool metal bars, she blinked back tears, before tightening her grip around its base.

She loved her instrument, she truly did. She just loved Aang more.

It was worth it, she told herself. Love was worth this.

Katara headed back to the dining table, where her eighty-seven cents lay, clutching her instrument. Vibrations spread along the waterphone's bars as they hit her legs, and it emitted a soft wailing song- a sort of mournful farewell, she could not help but think. Her lips pressed into a straight line as she fought against the sadness in her heart.

Before she could overthink it, Katara grabbed a tote bag that hung on the back of a chair. She then assembled the scattered coins, collecting them in one palm and slipping them into the pocket of her parka.

Facing the door, she took a deep breath. No regrets, she thought. She was doing this for Aang.

Waterphone dangling in a bag in one hand and love clutched tightly in the other, she stepped out the door.

* * *

 **Notes** : this is part 1 of a four part story. I have also written part 3, which will be posted here, and my teammate has written part 2 and 4


	8. The Gift of the Avatar: Chapter 3

**Tales of Four Nations**

Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.  
For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit

Round 5 of FF's Pro-Bending Circuit, season 4

 **Word Count** : 804 words

* * *

 **The Gift of the Avatar: Chapter 3**

The bell hanging over the door that lead to the music shop jingled as Katara gave it a slight push. She looked around, taking in the exquisitely designed tsungi horns and flutes, the vintage mandolins and priceless zithers displayed all over the shop. She had always dreamt of setting foot in this shop, but knew she could never afford most of the items in this place.

A shaggy-haired man popped up behind the counter, beatific smile in place. A strange, furry hat sat crookedly on his head, and he held an ornate pipa in one hand. «Hey there, young lady. I'm Chong. How can I help?»

Katara blinked, clutching the bag holding her waterphone to her chest. "Um. Hi. I'm Katara." She took a step towards the counter, glancing backwards. "I was admiring that beautiful tsungi horn case in the window. Is it possible to have a closer look?"

With an enthusiastic clap, Chong fetched the case and set it carefully on the counter, next to his pipa. Katara traced the elaborate designs with her fingers, relishing the smooth feel of leather beneath her skin. It was a magnificent piece of workmanship, and it was the _perfect_ gift for Aang.

Katara bit her lip. "How much?" The last word stuck in her throat, and she forced down a swallow.

Sensing her distress, Chong shared a sympathetic smile. "Aw, honey. This is one heck of a beautiful case, you know. We have plenty of other-"

Katara shook her head. No, it had to be _this one_. "How much?" She repeated firmly.

The salesman sighed. One elbow leaning against the pipa, he plucked a few strings before cocking his head. "For you, young lady, a discount. How about...a hundred and fifty. That's my offer."

Katara's eyes widened. "What? A hundred and fifty? But- you can't go any lower?"

Shaking his head, Chong assured her that unfortunately, he could not.

Taking a deep breath and strengthening her resolve, Katara took her waterphone out of her bag. "How much would this fetch?"

The music salesman rubbed his chin and eyed the metallic instrument appreciatively. "That waterphone there certainly is a sight for sore eyes, honey. You sure you want to part with that?" He added, gesturing to the waterphone with uncertainty.

Katara squared her shoulders. "If it will get me that case, yes. Aang means more to me than my waterphone, and he deserves the best gift I can give- which is that case. So I'm sure, Mr. Chong. Now, how much is my instrument worth?"

The dark-haired man observed her for a few seconds, temporarily taken aback by her outburst, then nodded once. "Very well, my dear. A hundred and sixty, then."

Katara let out the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. "Thank you, Mr. Chong."

She set her waterphone down on the counter, trailing her fingers one last time on the cool metal. Her stomach tightened as she gave it a small push towards the salesman. In return, Chong wrapped the case in a beautiful box topped with a big, orange ribbon, and handed her the change.

Placing the large box in her arms with care, he gave her a warm smile. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, miss Katara." He punctuated his sentence with a tiny bow.

Katara's smile didn't quite match his as she caught sight of her instrument sitting on the counter, looking lonely and forlorn. "Yes," she muttered. "Pleasure."

With the box held tightly between her arms, she stepped out onto the street. Tears sprung up in her eyes, tears she couldn't honestly attribute to the stinging cold, and she choked back a sob. She tried to steady herself with deep, even breaths.

 _It's okay, though_ , she attempted to tell herself. Her career, her music- it was all temporary. Aang...Aang is forever.

With that thought in mind, she started to make her way home, fighting against the bitter wind. Which at that moment, despite everything she's been through, she hardly felt. She knew she did the right thing, and it was that feeling of satisfaction- buried somewhere in her chest- that fueled her determination to get back to her loved one.

To her surprise, when she got back, the lights in their home were lit. Aang didn't say he would be back so soon!

It was with a thudding heart and sweaty palms that Katara pushed the door open, to find herself confronted with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed Aang.

"Katara, sweetheart, I have terrible news. It seems your waterphone's gone." He took a step closer to her, looking frantic. He was holding a long, wrapped parcel in his right hand. The other was rubbing his bald head, just beside the blue arrow tattoo he carved there years ago. "I think someone stole it."


	9. Something There

**Tales of Four Nations**

 **Something There**

For Zutara Month day 14: Beauty and the Beast

This one's dedicated to my Zutara readers, especially kdinthecity, who keeps me motivated and inexplicably seems to enjoy my writing.  
A little fluff is good for the soul.  
The plot, of course, belongs entirely to Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Not an ounce of originality here.

* * *

The sun beats down on Ember Island's white sand, and beneath the sweltering heat, Katara watches Zuko out of the corner of her eye. He's sitting by the small pond in the garden, tossing breadcrumbs at the turtleducks.

It's an unnerving sight.

See, she doesn't _get_ this boy. She doesn't understand how someone who chases them halfway across the world, who threatens to turn her over to pirates, who _betrays_ them so quickly in a cave filled with crystals, could turn out to be so...sweet. It's _weird_.

A branch cracks beneath her foot and she curses under her breath as Zuko's head snaps up and his eyes find hers almost instantly. She spots a blush rise from beneath the collar of his loose shirt as he gets up, brushing his hands on his pants.

He clears his throat. "This place reminds me of home."

Katara raises her eyebrow, and he turns even redder. If that's even possible. It's...endearing?

"The palace, I mean. There's a pond with turtleducks there. My mother-" His mouth clamps shut. His fingers disappear beneath thick black locks as he brushes his hair away. "We used to feed them together."

Right. A palace. He's a prince (or at least, he _was_ ). It's easy to forget, when he acts like _this-_ hesitant _,_ unsure.

She finally registers his words. "Used to? What happened?"

He tosses another handful of breadcrumbs. "She disappeared." She catches the tinge of loss and bitterness in his voice, and she _understands_.

"It's hard, missing her everyday, isn't it?"

He looks at her, and the sun is nothing compared to the blazing gold of his irises. She swallows, and turns her gaze to the turtleducks.

Huh. There may be something in him she simply didn't see before.

-.-

It's not hard. It's _unbearable_. But that's something Zuko thinks he doesn't need to say out loud. She knows- because she feels the same way too. He's been a witness to that, after all.

It's gotten him his first steps to being forgiven.

He holds out his palm. "Do you want to have a try?"

She bites her lip. "Really?"

He nods.

Tentatively, she takes a few crumbs form his palm. Her fingers brush against his skin, calloused from years of sword fighting. Her touch is soft but firm, without the slightest hint of disgust or fury. Something clenches in Zuko's chest, but he tells himself to ignore it.

She kneels down in the grass and extends her hand, palm up, just hovering above the water. Two baby turtleducks approach, under the wary, watchful eyes of the mother. After a second's hesitation, they start pecking at the crumbs.

"They're eating from my palm, Zuko!" she laughs, and turns to him, her smile blinding.

Those blue eyes of hers are wide with childlike delight and wonder, and he can't tear his gaze away. She's never looked at him that way before.

He never wants her to stop.

-.-

Three friends stare at the two teenagers from their spot on the balcony. Well, two of them stare- the third listens to the running commentary, a lazy smirk in place. She's predicted this particular turn of events for a _long_ time.

"Who'd have thought?" Sokka exclaims in a loud whisper.

Toph grins. "Me."

Suki takes a sip from the cup of juice in her hand and sighs. "Who'd have known?"

"I did."

The young boy shakes his head, eyes fixed on his sister and his new friend. "Never thought they'd come together on their own like this."

Toph snorts. "Called it."

Suki leans her chin against her palm. "Hm, let's give this a few days. There may be something there that wasn't there before."

Toph rolls her milky green eyes and lies on her back, letting the sun warm her face. "Please, amateurs. It's _always_ been there, if you knew where to look. If you'd bothered to _see_."

And they say _she's_ the blind one.


	10. The Secret in Those Eyes

**Tales of Four Nations**

Semi-Finals of the Pro-Bending Circuit: TV Tropes

I present to you: the Superhero/Vigilante AU no one asked for...

Prompts:

\- rescue romance  
\- we need a distraction  
\- sexier alter ego  
\- absurd phobia  
\- opening monologue

Word count: 1228 words

* * *

 **The Secret In Those Eyes  
** **(Behind The Mask And The Disguise)**

 **Part 1**

Katara gets it, okay? What they're doing- it's almost necessary.

Sure, the world may be a better place ever since General Iroh overthrew his brother to become Fire Lord ten years ago, and proclaimed the start of a new era of peace. Republic City was founded, a place where people from all nations can live in harmony.

But just because they _can_ doesn't mean they _do_. Some of Fire Nation locals are unhappy, wistfully thinking of the days when their homeland was a powerhouse. Others from the Earth Kingdom want complete independence from a nation they deem to be tyrannical.

Just because it's better doesn't mean it's _perfect_.

Riots erupt, despite- or maybe because of- Crown Prince Zuko's place as head of the police department. Petty crime rates keep climbing. Little old ladies are being threatened on the streets by thugs with sharp, pointy objects.

The four of them- Suki, Toph, Aang and her- decide to take the easier, day-to-day matters into their own capable hands. With masks, of course.

So yeah, she gets it. Sometimes the world needs vigilantes.

But, _dammit_. Do their methods of distraction always have to include her getting her flirt on? Especially with someone as sleazy as the Freedom Fighter?

He's lurking at the corner of the street opposite the store. Dark eyes gleam from behind a black cloth and a strand of grass hangs from the corner of his lips. There's no missing the two sharp grappling hooks dangling from his belt, glinting in the moonlight. "Ah, the Painted Lady. A sight for sore eyes, as always," he purrs. _Purrs_.

A shudder runs through her body, but Katara is nothing but a consummate professional. And she can't deny that there's something about putting on her disguise that makes her feel attractive, beautiful. Sexy. "Right back at you, handsome." She slinks closer, taking full advantage of the way her dress and cloak billow behind her, accentuating the air of mystery that comes with her costume. She knows the red paint on her face make her blue eyes stand out even more.

He's about to rob a jewelry store in one of the classier areas of Republic City. Katara's all for the sharing of riches and fighting against inequality, but this guy _hurts_ people- innocent people- and she can't stand for that. She won't turn her back on people who need her- no matter their social status or where they work.

The plan is for her to distract him with her 'feminine wiles', as Toph puts it, and for the rest of the team to sneak into the store to warn the staff and customers. Simple, concise, direct. In and out, no one gets hurt.

But he just _had_ to start getting handsy, didn't he?

That's how Suki, Aang and Toph find him frozen to the wall ten minutes later, a piece of cloth torn from her veil tied around his mouth. Katara is standing close, a water whip in hand and a furious glare twisting her make-up.

"Huh, couldn't help himself, could he?" Toph quips, readjusting the black band that covers her milky green eyes.

Suki shakes her head sagely. "It's the dress, Bandit. It's _always_ the dress." Dry, cheeky expression hidden behind the thick layer of her Kyoshi Warrior face paint, she sends Katara a wink. The waterbender snorts.

As the girls turn to leave, Aang looks over at the thief with a worried expression. "Is he going to be alright there, frozen like that?"

Katara waves dismissively. "He's going to be fine, Arrows. It'll melt before he can catch a cold. Besides, I dropped an anonymous call to the police, they should be over here in minutes. We should get out of here before they see us."

Aang shrugs, jogging to catch up with them. He brushes past Katara and Suki to slip his hand through Toph's. Suki falls in step with Katara, tucking her fan into her belt. With her full warrior regalia and heavy make-up, there's little doubt that the woman dressed up as a mythical Kyoshi Warrior is the leader of their little band of vigilantes. The teasing sparkle in her eyes as she glances at Katara, however, makes her look like a teenager.

"He seemed kind of cute. With the mask, anyway," she says with a false sense of airiness. "Pity he was such an ass."

Katara rolls her eyes at her friend's conversational tone. She _knows_ a hidden agenda when she sees it. "Just because I'm over Haru doesn't mean I want to jump in another relationship, Suki." Especially _not_ with someone like the Freedom Fighter. Ew. "Besides, we can't all have what they have," she gestures towards Toph and Aang, "or what you and my brother have. I'm cool with that."

Suki cocks her head to the side. "Yeah, huh. Who'd have thought Toph's weird fear of _dancing_ would have brought them that much closer? But if you think about it," she giggles, "only Aang could have handled having his feet stepped on so many times."

"And who would have thought _you'd_ be such a cliché, falling for your saviour?" Katara teases.

"Hey! He got me out of _prison_ , okay? Cut a girl some slack." Suddenly, the good humour slips from her face. "He hates it, that I keep doing this. If he knew I dragged his sister and her friends into it as well, he'd-"

"He doesn't need to know." Katara cuts her off, a fierce expression etched into her dark features. "You didn't _drag_ us, Suki. We practically begged you. I'm an adult now, I don't need his permission. Things have to _change_ around here _._ "

After a second, her friend straightens her shoulders and nods. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Katara jerks her chin towards the couple before them. "Go ahead, I'll join you guys later. I'll make sure the police come."

Once the rest of the group is out of sight, Katara focuses her attention on the man she glued to the wall, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for a police siren. Indeed, the black car appears minutes later. Sokka steps out of the vehicle, his face a picture of frustration.

"Where the hell are you, Zuko?" She manages to catch his irritated grumble before he hauls off the thief into the car.

Right. She forgets, sometimes, that her brother is partners with the Chief of the police department. Who also happens to be the Crown Prince. Who _also_ seems to be a useless shit- no matter how much Sokka appears to like him. The city's in shambles and he's doing _nothing_ about it.

A thud behind her catches her attention, and as she turns, she spots something- someone- crumple to the ground before her. She feels a scream rise in her chest but the sound is muffled by a gloved hand that clamps over her mouth. Another dark figure comes into view, brandishing a knife. With a twist, her captor's free arm knocks out the second assailant with the handle of his dao sword.

She's still reeling from the unexpected attack when she finds herself tugged into a narrow cul-de-sac by her captor, who promptly releases her only to push her against the wall. Katara blinks, before her blue eyes widen comically.

"You!" She hisses.

Black painted eyes stare back at her from a menacing blue mask.


	11. The Secret in Those Eyes: part 2

**Tales of Four Nations**

Semi-Finals of the Pro-Bending Circuit: TV Tropes

I present to you: part 2 of the Superhero/Vigilante AU no one asked for...

 **Prompts:**

\- undercover cop reveal  
\- defeat means friendship  
\- parental Favouritism

 **Word count** : 1 796 words

 **Notes** : The whole reveal is pointless, since we know who the Blue Spirit is. But I guess it's about the journey, not the destination, right guys?  
And, in case it wasn't clear, Sokka knows Suki is the Kyoshi Warrior but has no idea that Katara, Aang and Toph regularly join her in their own disguises.  
Anyway, I'm not sure if anyone is actually reading this, let alone enjoying it, but if there are people out there who think this story might have some semblance of potential, let me know!

* * *

 **The Secret In Those Eyes  
** **(Behind The Mask And The Disguise)  
** **Part 2**

"You!"

It's the Blue Spirit.

Katara's never met him before, but she's heard _stories_. Tales of his grace and stealth, of his flawless swordsmanship. He first appeared at the beginning of Fire Lord Iroh's reign, when certain members of the royal entourage refused to accept the change in power and in policies. He slowly built a reputation taking down corrupt politicians and traitorous guards.

No one knows who he is. He works alone.

Suki's a _big_ fan.

At her outburst, he clamps once again a hand over her mouth, shaking his head. He leans forward, pressing his body against hers to look over her shoulder, out onto the street.

Katara fidgets indignantly, wondering if he's ever heard of _personal space_. He seems to register their current position and takes a step back, his hand dropping from her mouth. With the mask on, she can't see his face, but something about his posture looks almost... apologetic.

"I've heard of you. The Blue Spirit." Adjusting her hat, she surveils him warily. "I didn't really need your help back there. I would have taken care of them."

He doesn't say anything, but a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort comes from behind the mask.

Right. Apparently, he's not a big talker, either.

"It's true!" She's feeling mildly offended now. "I'm a pretty good waterbender. And I've been doing this for years."

If the way he reaches behind his back to unsheathe his broad swords is any indication, he's taken her words as a challenge. He settles into a defensive position, and Katara _swears_ he's smirking.

"Oh, for La's sake, I'm not going to _fight_ you! This is stupid, we're on the same side," she grumbles. At least, she thinks they are. She doesn't actually know anything about the guy.

He returns his swords to his back and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. As he tilts his head to the side, it feels like he's studying her. The small blind alley suddenly seems even smaller.

She tugs at her veil. "But, anyway..." She clears her throat. "Thanks. I guess. For earlier."

He still doesn't answer- it's _so_ frustrating! Why is she even bothering?

With a huff, she spins on her heels. She's taken a few steps when he grabs her bicep.

"It's dangerous." His voice is low, muffled by the mask, but it doesn't stop Katara's heart from skipping a beat in her chest.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "What you're doing. You're a great bender, I saw that earlier- with the Freedom Fighter. But you don't know how dangerous it is."

Katara blinks, incredulous. She's in a strange limbo between flattered and insulted, unsure as to how she should react. So she decides to go for good old trusty sarcasm. "Um. Yeah, you're right," she scoffs. "How would _I_ know how dangerous it is to defend my city?"

Righteous anger- the kind that has fueled her ever since she was a child, that has brought her to this _exact_ moment in time- pulses through her veins. He makes a move, like he's about to interrupt, but she cuts him off. She's having none of it. Not now.

"We've got a chief of police to take care of our safety, anyway. Oh _wait,_ that's right. He's not _doing_ anything about it! This city's crumbling from the inside and he doesn't care!"

She's so caught up in her own fury she doesn't notice the way she's got him backed against the wall, palm pressing into his chest.

"Of _course_ he does!" The Blue Spirit's outburst takes Katara by surprise, stunning her into silence. "You have _no idea_!" Katara drops her hand and her eyes drift to his clenched fists by his side. The only source of light comes from a flickering lamppost fifteen feet away, but she's sure she sees smoke rising from his curled fingers. "He may be chief of police here in Republic City, but he's also the Fire Nation _Prince_. He's being watched twenty-four seven. Every single move he makes is noted, registered, analyzed- to be thrown back in his face or used against the royal family."

She hears him sigh, and despite the muffled quality of his voice, there's no mistaking the defeat in his tone. "He sees it all. The hunger. The disparities. He can't fight the way you do, but trust me- it doesn't mean he cares any less. He's trying to make things _better_. For everyone. You just... you just have to give him some time."

The defeat makes way for a newfound fervor, and Katara is struck by the sudden need to see his eyes. Eyes, she's been told, never lie.

"Fine." She licks her lips, attempting to sound flippant. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. For now."

The Blue Spirit ducks his head. "He thanks you for it," he replies gruffly.

There's a minute of awkward silence during which the two vigilantes shuffle their feet and cautiously avoid each other's gazes. Well, Katara avoids his- she can't tell what's going on behind that _infuriating_ mask.

Oh, but she sort of wants to, though.

"I should get going," she says finally, making her way out of the alley. She halts in front of the knocked-out bodies. "What about these guys?"

The Blue Spirit shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll deal with them."

She hesitates for a second before lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. Her eyebrows shoot up when he takes a step to follow her. "You're not going to chaperone me, are you?"

The mask emits a sound that closely resembles a laugh. "No, I'm not. I've bee told you can take care of yourself." He reaches out to brush his gloved hands against her bare elbow. It's the lightest of touches, but it's enough to send a spark straight to her spine. "Stay safe, though."

The tiny action perturbs her. Wordlessly, Katara nods, before dashing out of the alley into the night.

She forces herself not to look back.

* * *

The Blue Spirit watches the Painted Lady turn the corner and lets out a breath. Digging into his pocket, he whips out his phone to make a call. It takes the black car a quarter of an hour to turn up. When it pulls to a stop, he hauls the two unconscious assailants onto the backseat. Making sure there isn't anyone around, he slips off his mask and gets into the front passenger seat, where his colleague- and let's be honest, one of his only friends- glares at him.

"You're going to get killed one day doing this, Zuko."

Zuko shoots his partner a cynical look. "Because working for the police force is _so safe_."

"It isn't the same, and you know it." Sokka shakes his head and groans. "As prince and chief of police, of course you're going to have opposers. You can't please everyone with whatever decisions you make. But the Blue Spirit has a target painted on his back. He's made specific enemies, violent ones. Who'll stop nothing to get revenge for the wrongs they believe have been done to them."

"You're talking about Zhao."

"Of course I am!" Sokka cries, running a hand through his hair and messing up his wolf-tail. "He was an ass to Prince Zuko. But he almost got the Blue Spirit _murdered_. Excuse me for not wanting you to die." He rubs his face with one hand, the other gripping the wheel tightly. "Plus, can you imagine the reactions of the people when they find out the Prince of the Fire Nation is gallivanting around in a mask to fight crime?"

Zuko's jaw ticks as he stares out of the window. "They are going to have to deal with it, because I'm not stopping, Sokka. I'm doing this for them."

The information he receives as the Blue Spirit is astounding compared to what he gets as part of the police, or even as royalty. With a mask on, the hierarchy fades, his position of authority vanishes. People see him as an equal, as one of them.

And there's a part of him that revels in being someone else, in _not_ being Zuko for a while. He's never been a prodigal firebender. His father has taken extreme pleasure in pointing it out incessantly throughout his childhood, as his sister Azula- perfect, precocious, proficient Azula- smirks by his side. Mastering the dao swords has therefore been a major source of personal pride, but one he can't publicly share with others.

After all, he thinks bitterly, it's beneath royalty to use a sword for combat.

But as the Blue Spirit, however... his hard-earned skill _saves lives_.

Sokka's voice tears him away from his thoughts. "What were you doing, anyway?"

"I got a tip about the Freedom Fighter's plan to rob the Crystal Catacombs. By the time I got there, the Kyoshi Warrior and her crew were dealing with it- well, the Painted Lady was dealing with _him_ \- so I stood back to watch a little. Then she got sort of ambushed, so I lent a hand." Zuko shrugs a little sheepishly. "Sorry I forgot to call you. She did a good job, though. You saw that."

Sokka guffaws. "You bet she did- the state that first guy was in, phew!" He shoots Zuko a side look. "So, what's the Painted Lady like? She's quite mysterious, that one."

The firebender lowers his head to stare at the mask in his hand, his fingers absently tracing the white markings. He recalls the raw power as she slammed a wave into the thief, the barely suppressed anger in each of her movements as she dodged his double hooks and raised her hands to form a water whip. She fought unlike any waterbender he's ever seen. It was mesmerizing.

And he remembers those piercing blue eyes behind the veil, challenging and probing, demanding things from him she didn't even realize she was asking.

Something twists in his stomach- something he hasn't felt in a long time.

Zuko looks up and catches Sokka's gaze in the rearview mirror. "She's... " The faintest of smiles appears on his lips. "She's definitely something."

His friend grins, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Zuko. My man. It's been a while."

Before Zuko can protest, Sokka lets out a gleeful cry as he looks out the window. "Ooh, what do you say about making a pit-stop before getting back to the station? I'm suddenly craving some deep friend chicken."

"Sure, let's do that." Zuko shakes his head in amusement at his partner's delight.

He shuts his eyes with a soft sight, leaning his head against the window, and proceeds to lose himself in thoughts of veiled, painted red lips and long dark curls.


	12. Pas-De-Deux

**Tales of Four Nations**

 **Pas-De-Deux** (Part four)

Prompts:

\- Linking Park, _Numb  
_ \- Roses (smell)  
\- Green (color)  
\- Use of the wind element

Word count: 810 words

* * *

The studio door creaks open. Suki doesn't hear it at first, as Linkin Park's synthetic chords and heavy guitar riffs thrum through her limbs. It's her go-to prep music before any form of exercise. Chester Bennington's cries about feeling trapped and numb seem remarkably _à propos_ to her right now.

A pair of familiar-looking ankles appear in her field of vision, and she pulls out her earphones in time to hear someone clear their throat. She looks up from tying her pointe shoes, and blinks at the unexpected sight that stands before her. Sokka shoots her a bemused smile, and tugs at his tights.

"I totally pull this look off," he tells her, a current of nervousness hiding behind the flippancy.

She stands up, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her half-bun. "What are you doing here, Sokka?"

He takes a deep breath, before extending his hand to take a hold of hers. "I'm sorry. For what I said about ballet, for thinking it was beneath me just because I'm a dude. For not supporting you." He shrugs. "For generally being an ass."

Suki raises her eyebrows. Sokka _never_ apologizes. "Doesn't explain the tights."

He lets out a barking laugh. "Face it, I look good. Though, I'm sure, nowhere near as good as you would look in a tutu. And trust me, I realize now that ballet is so much more than just prancing around in a tutu-" He yelps as she hits him repeatedly on the shoulder.

As she raises her hand once more, he grabs it and pulls her closer. The humorous glint in his blue eyes slowly ebbs away, to be replaced by a look that stirs something in Suki's belly.

He reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulls out a small, green velvet box. "I got you something," he says, "it's the pearl of an oyster crab. It reminded me of you- fierce and impossible to catch. But once you have it, it's the greatest treasure you'll ever have."

Suki snorts. "That has _got_ to be the sappiest thing you've ever said to me. But it's also one of the sweetest." Laughing, she lifts the necklace from the box, marveling at the delicate chain and stunning way it catches the light. "Put it on for me."

With a grin, he takes the necklace and stands behind her and she feels his hand fumble with the clasp at the back of her neck. A strong, flowery scent reaches her nose. "Sokka," she asks. He hums in response. "Why do you smell like roses?"

His hands still for a second. "I actually bought you some roses, too. But a strong gust of wind came and blew them away. I tried to- well, never mind. Sorry."

She pictures Sokka chasing rose petals as they twirled in the wind and starts to giggle uncontrollably. "Flowers and jewelry, oh my. One would think you were trying to make up for something." She smiles. "Thank you, Sokka."

He wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. "I've missed you," he murmurs.

She thinks of the strange void she's felt the past few days, without Sokka by her side. She remembers her curtness towards her friends, her bad temper in her boyfriend's absence. (Yeah, she definitely owes Katara and Korra a big, fat I'm-so-sorry phone call). For all of their individual faults, they're _better_ together. "I've missed you, too."

With a sigh, she looks towards her class as they start their warm-up. "I've got to get going. I'll see you later?" She extricates herself from his arms.

"Wait." Sokka grabs her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

She cocks her head, looking at him expectantly.

"When we chose to be partners, it was supposed to be in every aspect of life. I didn't stand by that, and I'm sorry. But Suki, I'd like to be your partner in this, too." He ducks his head. "If you'd let me, that is. May I _pas-de-deux_ with you?"

As he fails to elicit an immediate response from her, Sokka starts to babble. "It's a series of ballet steps performed by a duet, typically-"

It crosses Suki's mind that it is rather ridiculous to be so happy that her boyfriend has taken the time to learn a ballet term in order to impress her. But screw it, she cannot find it in herself to care, since she is way too overcome by an onslaught of silly fondness for the man in question.

She decides to shut him up with a kiss.

"I know that, stupid. I'm the dancer, here. But yeah, Sokka. I'd really like that. I want to _pas-de-deux_ with you, too." She grabs his hand and pulls him towards her class. "Come on, then. Let's dance."


	13. What A Wonderful World

**Tales of Four Nations**

 **What A Wonderful World**

This was supposed to be for Round 2, but I got held up, and can only redeem myself in my teammates' eyes by contributing a little to the gym. I'm so sorry, Cats.

Prompts:

\- Sadness

Word count: 463 words

* * *

A splash of warmth on her skin tells Toph the sun is streaming through her open window. She feels Lin fidget and bury her face in the crook of her arm. As she places a kiss on her daughter's forehead, a wave of anxiety comes over her.

She's not ready, she thinks.

A deep, rich voice croons over the radio.

" _I see trees of green, red roses too  
_ _I see them bloom, for me and you.  
_ _And I think to myself: what a wonderful world_."

She isn't ready to be responsible for another person. She's seen the effects of bad parenting; hell, she's a prime example. She's a barely functioning adult; there's no way she can be a _mother._

Lin deserves better- and Toph's pretty sure she can't give her that.

" _I see skies of blue, and clouds of white  
_ _The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night  
_ _And I think to myself: what a wonderful world._ "

A little too much rice wine that make cheesy pick-up lines sound romantic and she ends up pregnant while _he_ ends up head of department. She still remembers the sound of his receding footsteps when she tells him the news.

Spirits, she _hates_ him. Almost as much as she sometimes hates herself.

" _The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky  
_ _Are also on the faces of people going by  
_ _I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do  
_ _But they're really saying I love you."_

She reaches out blindly and her hand grasps the first thing it touches. She tries to ignore the flash of guilt she feels when she realizes it's the hand-woven silk pillow Zuko gave her as a present for the baby shower.

 _"I hear babies cry, and I watched them grow  
_ _They'll learn much more than I'll ever know  
_ _And I think to myself-"_

The song stops abruptly as the radio crashes to the floor.

She hears Katara's footsteps as her friend rushes to her. "Toph? What happened? I heard- Oh, _Toph_."

She can't see it, but she pictures the scene in her mind.

A broken radio lying on the floor. Feathers from the now limp pillow twirling around the room as a light breeze blows through the open window. Beautiful, perfect Katara staring at her with a mixture of horror and pity.

"I can't do this, Katara." It's only when she hears how wet her voice is that she realizes she's been crying.

Arms wrap around her shoulders as they shake in silent sobs. "You can, Toph. Of course you can. You're going to be fine. The both of you. We're here for you."

As Katara's quiet humming fills the silence of her living room, Toph thinks that maybe she's going to be okay, after all.


	14. The Secret in Those Eyes: part 3

**The Secret In Those Eyes**

 **(Behind The Mask And The Disguise)**

 **Part 3**

Prompts:

\- ADDICTION: Dancing everywhere instead of walking  
\- « Don't look at me like this »  
\- Violet  
\- Old detective/crime AU  
\- Toph

Word count: 1792 words

* * *

When Sokka doesn't show up for their weekly drink on Thursday night, Zuko doesn't think twice about it, even when he doesn't pick up the phone. After all, he's met his girlfriend before - a formidable public defender from Kyoshi Island, with looks that match her skills in court - and if he were Sokka, given the choice of hanging out between Suki and him, he'd pick _her_ any day, too.

Sokka's absence from the precinct on Friday morning, however, doesn't feel quite right. The unease only grows as time ticks by, and the mountain of paperwork he has to shuffle through does nothing to distract him.

By the time the clock strikes ten, he decides he's had enough. He grabs his coat and is about to leave his office in search of his partner when a woman bursts through the doors, followed by his harried-looking secretary, Jin. "Miss," Jin calls out, "you can't just _walk_ -"

The woman spins on her heels, dark curls flying. " _Watch me,"_ she snarls, and turns back to face Zuko. Jin stifles a gasp, shoots Zuko an indignant look and scurries back to her desk. The stranger's blue eyes flash as she glares at him. "Hello, your _highness_. Sokka's gone. I need your help to find him."

—

The resemblance, Zuko notes, is striking. The same thick hair, the identical complexion, the same air of unintended confidence. "You're Sokka's sister, Katara," he blurts out. Sokka talks about her all the time, and paints a fond picture of a smart, resourceful- if a little bratty- younger sister.

He didn't expect her to look like…this. _Like what, a woman?_ His brain taunts him. _Spirits Zuko, how long has it been?_

He really doesn't want to answer that question.

"Always had a sharp eye, Sifu Hotman."

His eyes widen in surprise as he spots the person standing beside his partner's sibling. "Miss Bei Fong."

Zuko was familiar with the sole heir of Bei Fong Industries, one of the royal family's biggest business partner in construction work and real estate. Toph Bei Fong's business savvy and keen mind made her a formidable ally- albeit one with an unpredictable temper and cheeky sense of humor.

The tiny brunette wrinkles her nose. "Please don't call me that. I've told you before. It's Toph."

Katara's brow furrows. "Wait. You guys know each other?"

Toph waves a hand dismissively. "You know I don't like to talk about _that_. And you know what it's like. We're more …casual acquaintances, I guess."

"Yeah, that's nice." Sharp blue eyes swivel back to his face, pinning him in place. "Let's focus, please? Someone came in last night, knocked him out. I tried to go after them, but-" her expression hardens, "she did _something_ to me. I don't…"

That's when Zuko notices Katara's hand on the smaller woman's shoulder, the stiffness in her movements. "Are you okay?"

She gives a shrug, eyeing him warily. "I'm _fine._ It's wearing off. She, what do you call it? Chi-blocked me. I couldn't move, I couldn't follow them. Toph found me this morning, and helped me get here."

A weight settles in the pit of Zuko's stomach. "Chi-blocking? You said _she_ did something. Did you see this person?"

"Tall. A long braid." She frowns. "She _danced_ everywhere. Like, walking is impossible for her. And she wore _pink_."

He feels himself go pale. _Oh, for the love of- "_ Stay here. I'll take care of this."

He finds his way barred by a pair of crossed arms and a steely glare. He sneaks a glance at Toph Bei Fong, who hides a smirk.

"No, you won't. You may be the Crown Prince, head of police and my brother's partner, but I'm afraid I don't trust you. I'm coming along."

Her words feel like a stab in his chest. Zuko _knows_ that many of his people feel that way, that it is going to take a lot of time and effort to win them over, to get them to see how hard he's working to make this world a better place. He knows all that, but still- it _hurts._

"You can _barely walk_ -"

"My brother needs me." Her eyes- those _damn_ eyes- pin him in place. "And I never turn my back on those who need me."

Zuko takes in the stubborn jut of her jaw, the firm set of her shoulders, and sighs. "Fine. Follow me. I think I know where to find him."

—

"So you _don't_ think the Earth King should be at the head of Republic City? Even though it's right in the middle of Earth Kingdom territory?"

Zuko shoots Toph a look from his rearview mirror. "No, I don't. Republic City was founded by Fire Lord Iroh-"

"And, what?" Katara interrupts. "That means he should be its leader? Doesn't the Fire Nation have enough of power already?"

Her tone is different from Toph's playful provocation, her words laced with an undercurrent of anger, of righteous indignation. He feels her eyes on him, burning with accusation over things he _didn't_ do, over decisions he didn't make. His scar tingles, and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. _Yes_ , he wants to tell her. _The Fire Nation does have too much power. It's time to share it; starting with a council made up of members from all nations, with a leader elected by the people._

But he turns a corner and the mismatched buildings of Republic City's artsy district come into view, so he clamps his mouth shut. He's _tired_.

"That's not what I meant. Forget it." The car pulls to a stop before a red door. "We're here."

The three of them step out of the vehicle and approach the front door. Trying to ignore Katara's frustrated grunt as she leans on Toph for support, Zuko lifts his fist and raps on the door.

"Ty Lee? It's Zuko."

There's a shuffle behind the door, which creaks open to show a pretty woman with large brown eyes. She pirouettes onto the patio, closing the door behind her, and curtsies in greeting.

"Zuko! It's wonderful to see you. It's been simply-"

She cuts herself off when she spots Katara, and her eyes widen. The latter uses the split-second distraction to quickly enter the house.

"No! Please, you don't understand-"

She rushes in after Katara and Toph with a mixture of enjambées and jetés, Zuko hot at her heels. Spinning around, she blasts him with a burst of air that slams him against the door.

Suppressing a groan, he hauls himself up and follows the mess. He finds Ty Lee glued to the ground by tiny mounds of earth, Katara crouching next to a tied-up Sokka, and Toph holding her arms out in a bending stance.

"Sokka, are you okay?"

His friend replies with a firm nod, and the weight in his chest lifts a little.

"Please, I wasn't going to hurt him. Well, not personally. Zhao made me do it." Ty Lee turns to Zuko. "You know what he's like. He threatened to hurt my family, to hurt Mai."

Zuko can't help the bitter laugh that escapes him at the memory of his ex-girlfriend. "You and I both know Mai can take care of herself." He doesn't want to know, but he has to ask. "Did Azula know?"

Ty Lee hesitates. "I…I'm not sure. Don't look at me like this! I really don't know, Zuko." She plays nervously with her braid. "Sure, you guys have your differences, but she wouldn't purposely…" Her voice trails off, and she glances at Zuko. "Would she?"

The question resonates in the ensuing silence.

Clenching his jaw, he gestures to the other three. "You guys take the car and get back to the precinct. I'll take care of her."

Sokka struggles to his feet. "You heard her, Zuko. Zhao's involved, you can't deal with this alone."

"Just…trust me, Sokka. Go ahead."

The two men exchange a glance. With a shake of his head, Sokka hobbles out of the room, followed by his sister and Toph, who releases Ty Lee's feet with a wave of her hands.

"Why, Ty Lee?"

"I told you." Misery, Zuko finds, is a strange look on his former friend's usually bubbly face. "Zhao found out I was an airbender. It's been getting harder and harder to hide my bending. I can't- I can't control it. Especially the dancing." Tears spring at the corner of her eyes. "There's this _feeling_ in me, that pushes me to dance all the time. And it feels _good_ , Zuko. I don't want to stop."

She sighs. "It's like I'm free. Limitless. Something's been missing in me my whole life. But now that I've started dancing and bending, I feel _whole_." Biting her lip, she rubs the corner of her eyes. "And now that's being used against me."

Ty Lee and him haven't been close in years; the surge of protectiveness Zuko suddenly feels takes him by surprise. "What did he do?"

"He told me he'd hunt down my family, and treat them the way airbenders were treated a hundred years ago. Just as we deserved."

Zuko's fists clench at his sides. He doesn't get it, this vision of the world; it goes against everything he stands for, everything he's fought his family for. He has the scars to prove it. "We'll see Uncle Iroh. He might know what to do, and he'll be discreet about it. Come on, Ty Lee."

They find Toph sitting on the front doorstep. She stands up when she hears them approaching.

"I couldn't help but overhear everything. I know what it's like to feel like you have to hide your bending. I have a friend," she tells them. "He's an airbender. He'd like nothing more than to help one of his people. He's a good person, one of the best, and he'll do everything he can to keep you and your family safe." She turns her milky eyes towards Ty Lee, and suddenly her voice turns to steel. "But I swear, if you do anything to hurt him, or get him in trouble, it'll be the last thing you do."

Ty Lee flinches. "Got it. Thank you so much."

"Good." Toph shoves her hands in her pockets. "Let's get you to Air Temple Island."

Both women start walking, before Ty Lee abruptly stops.

"Huh, Zuko," she calls out. "There are dashes of violet, now."

Zuko cocks his head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Your aura," Ty Lee shrugs. "It used to be pure red. It's got sprinkles of violet now. Just something I noticed. Strange."

With that, she spins on her toes and follows Toph down the street.

Zuko stares at their receding backs, bemused. _Yeah, strange._


	15. Don't you bring him down today

**Tales of Four Nations**

 **Don't You Bring Him Down Today**

Prompts:

 _Beautiful,_ Christina Aguilera  
« Why are you over there? »  
Japanese proverb « Fear is only as deep as the mind allows »

Word count: 854 words

* * *

Iroh remembers the day Zuko was born like the birth of his own son.

Born on the winter solstice, it is a bad omen for a Fire Nation baby, let alone the potential Crown Prince.

The baby is frail, pale, with thin black hair. But his gold eyes shine with a light that steals Iroh's breath.

The boy's father takes one look at him and turns away, muttering " _he was lucky to be born"_.

Iroh drowns out Ozai's words with soft humming, and he swears to himself that he'll protect the boy. If it is the last thing he ever does.

—

 _Every day is so wonderful  
_ _Then suddenly it's hard to breathe.  
_ _Now and then I get insecure  
_ _From all the pain, I'm so ashamed._

—

" _Banished_? As if the Agni Kai wasn't bad enough. Just what do you think you're doing, Ozai?"

Iroh is aware of the tremble in his voice. It is, he believes, the only outward sign of his rage. The disgust he feels, however, he doesn't bother hiding.

Ozai barely lifts his gaze to acknowledge his older sibling's presence. He gracefully pulls his dark red robe over his bare shoulders, and ties the silk belt into a knot around his waist. "In questioning my plans and challenging my orders, he has dishonored the Fire Nation. He has dishonored _me_."

"He's _thirteen,_ Ozai. He's your _son."_ Iroh does not understand how one can be so callous with one's child. Not when they can so easily- _too easily-_ be taken away.

Ozai stiffens. "No son of mine should disrespect me. Until he regains _his honor_ , I have no son."

The words, though expected, were no less painful to Iroh. Zuko deserves more, deserves _better._ Shaking his head, he stares at the Firelord. "Very well. Just remember, Ozai. You've already lost your wife. And now, just as you claim to not have a son, you no longer have a brother."

—

 _To all your friends you're delirious  
_ _So consumed  
_ _In all your doom,  
_ _Trying hard to fill the emptiness  
_ _The pieces gone  
_ _Left the puzzle undone  
_ _Ain't that the way it is_

—

Iroh finds Zuko in a hidden corner of the palace, relentlessly practicing his fire bending moves. Sweat makes his tunic cling to his torso, and Iroh does not miss the singed edges of his shirt and pants.

"Zuko? Why are you over there? There's no need for hiding." He calls out. The cheer in his voice sounds fake to his own ears, and he cringes.

His nephew stills, and slowly turns to face him. It is the first time Iroh sees the marks of Ozai's wrath. Gone is the perfect porcelain skin, and in its place, the swollen skin over Zuko's right eyelid and cheekbone is an ugly red with purple patches, the borders peeling off.

"I have to practice. I need to master fire bending if I am to face the Avatar, Uncle." He lunges forward, and the blast of fire he emits knocks his back a few steps. Caught off balance, he falls to the ground. Iroh reaches out, and catches the desperate, frenzied look in his nephew's good eye. In the firelight cast by the torches hanging from the palace walls, his golden iris glimmers with tears, and Iroh's heart breaks at the sheer terror in his nephew's expression.

He recalls a proverb his wife used to share. (He allows himself a small smile at her memory, but that would have to be enough. He can no longer afford many more of such luxuries.)

 _Fear is only as deep as the mind allows._

Unfortunately for Zuko, his father has left more than enough mental scars for fear to seep through the cracks and lodge itself in its crevices, no matter how strong he is.

He kneels down, and gently takes Zuko's face between his hands. The burnt skin, thick and sticky, is warm against his palm. « You don't have to do this, Zuko. We can get away, just the two of us. You can take your time to heal, and leave all these painful memories behind. You'll come back when you're ready.»

Iroh knows Zuko has what it takes to be a wonderful leader. It is what got him into trouble in the first place. He is a _good_ person, with values so unlike his own father. Iroh wants to protect that. The last thing he wants is for Zuko to turn into his father.

But he is also a boy who has craved his father's attention and approval for so long; and _that-_

Zuko's features harden, and he sticks out his jaw in defiance. "I have to find the Avatar. I have to regain my honor and return home."

\- is a lesson he will have to learn on his own. No matter how much it breaks Iroh's heart.

Iroh closes his eyes for a second to mourn a childhood lost. Opening them again, he clasps his nephew's shoulder and shares a slight smile. "Alright, Zuko. Let's go find the Avatar."

—

 _You are beautiful no matter what they say  
_ _Words can't bring you down_

 _Don't you bring me down today_

* * *

 _Notes :_

Well, this didn't turn out how I wanted it to. I'm sorry, the quality is terrible.

I hope it's clear, but Iroh's worst fear is Zuko turning into Ozai, and it's « coming true » when Zuko decides to hunt the Avatar.


	16. Senses

**Tales of Four Nations**

Prompts:

\- Republic City  
\- Five senses

Word count: 2514 words

Pure Zutara fluff. Sorry! (Or not).

* * *

 **Senses**

 _The senses are a kind of reason._

 _Taste, touch and smell, hearing and seeing, are not merely a means to sensation, enjoyable or otherwise, but they are also a means to knowledge – and are, indeed, your only actual means to knowledge._

\- St. Thomas Aquinas

— —

"Your wedding will be full of joy and celebration, and your marriage will be most fulfilling."

Suki beams, as Toph rolls her eyes. "Could have said as much myself," she drawls.

The fortuneteller turns to the young blind woman sharply. "Well, as for you-" but Toph cuts her off.

"Not interested, lady. That one there, however-" she jabs a thumb in Katara's direction, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "she's _dying_ to know what's waiting for her on the love front."

Katara gasps indignantly. "Am not."

Aunt Wu turns her attention to the water bender. Katara stiffens, waiting for a sign of recognition that never comes. _I feel a great romance for you. The man you are going to marry. I can see that he's a very powerful bender._ Ha. Because _that_ turned out so well.

"Ah, she's a stubborn one, this one." Aunt Wy looks at her appraisingly. "Lucky for her, the Fates have decided to give her a little push when the time comes."

"Push? What _push_?"

But her cry is muffled by the sound of her friends' snickers.

* * *

 _ **Sight**_

"Wake up, Sugar Queen."

Sunlight streams across Republic City's horizon into her bedroom as Katara cracks a bleary eye open. Toph is perched above her, a blinding grin across her face.

"Get your butt out of bed. Suki's getting married!"

She spends the day with Toph and the bride-to-be, getting pampered at the spa and trying on their new dresses.

The reception is a splendid open air affair, in Republic City Park. Katara brushes imaginary lint off her midnight blue dress, looking around for familiar faces. She smiles and sends her brother a kiss when she spots him a few feet away, Suki on his arm. His responding grin is blinding, and Katara is glad, she truly is.

Her eyes scan the rest of the guests, to fall on a red and black-clad man leaning against a tree. As if he senses her gaze, Zuko turns to face her and lifts his lips into a small smile, raising his glass in a salute.

He suddenly shifts and starts to walk towards her.

He looks good, she realizes. _He always does_ , a little voice whispers in her head.

She shakes away the thought, one that has become more and more frequent recently, but one she can't afford to dwell on.

It…complicates things. Especially with what happened with Aang.

And, well, Zuko being the freaking Fire Lord.

She catches his gaze trail up and down her dress, with something strangely resembling _hunger_ in his eyes.

He makes it so hard, though, when he looks at her like… _that_.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he clears his throat. "You look nice."

She gapes at him. "Seriously? I spent a _fortune_ on this dress and that's all I get? _Nice?"_

He rolls his eyes, but there's no missing his smile. "Fine. You look stunning. Happy?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and Katara's breath hitches in her throat. "Yeah. Better."

A hand settles on her shoulder and she turns around to find Aang, who shoots her a small smile. "Hey, Katara." He glances behind her shoulder. "Hey, Zuko." His focus turns back to her. "Dance with me? For old time's sake, between two friends?"

There's a hesitancy behind his airy question, and Katara can't find it in herself to refuse, so she nods.

"Of course, Aang."

He pulls her into his arms, and she shoots a last glance back at Zuko, who's been accosted by a pretty young woman. He chuckles at something she says, and Katara averts her gaze. She avoids him for the rest of the evening.

She tells herself it's better this way.

* * *

 _ **Smell**_

"Wake up, Sugar Queen."

What?

"Get your butt out of bed. Suki's getting married!"

Confusion clouds her mind at the familiar scenario that plays out. "What are you talking about, Toph? She got married yesterday."

Her friend frowns. "What are you talking about? The wedding's _today_."

"But-" Something- instinct, maybe- tells Katara to shut up. So she plays along.

"Right, sorry. Still a little sleepy. Give me ten minutes to get ready." A weird weight settles in her chest, but she doesn't say a word about her strange sense of déjà-vu.

Morning and afternoon pass in an almost identical copy of her previous day, and Katara starts her evening standing in Republic City Park in her midnight blue dress, feeling jittery.

Something is up, she doesn't know _what_. And she _hates_ not knowing.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Zuko appears at her side, a glass of rice wine in hand, which he promptly hands her. She thanks him with a grimace and takes a sip, feeling her nerves settle. He plucks a bun from a tray as a waiter passes them and presents it to her. "Try these too. They're divine."

She takes a bite from the bun, the flavour filling her taste buds and the delicious smell causing her to let out a small moan.

He shoots her a strange look, and she glares back defensively. "What? You were right when you said they were divine."

Zuko decides- rightly so- to say nothing, turning away to hide a smile. She watches him as his gaze flits over the crowd, wariness etched in his features.

"What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, schooling his face into a blank mask. "Nothing."

After the terrible, freakishly weird day she's had, his evasiveness pisses her off. "Fine. I'm off to eat more of those buns and have a good time. Come and find me when you're done brooding."

"Katara-"

She ignores him.

Well, Aunt Wu was right about one thing. She could be a _little_ stubborn.

* * *

 _ **Touch**_

"Wake up, Sugar Queen."

No. No no no.

 _Why?_

The day passes in a hazy blur. Katara goes though the motions, mechanically getting ready for her friend's big day.

She isn't sure what's happening, or why _no one_ seems to realize that they're living the same day over and over again.

Later that evening, her fingers tighten around what she thinks is her fourth glass of rice wine. She gazes out at the happy, smiling faces of the guests at the wedding reception. Suki and Sokka have been inseparable, absolutely _glowing_ with happiness as they flutter from group to group to thank people for coming to celebrate their union, and she feels a pang of envy in her chest. It's ridiculous, she knows. She's a strong, independent woman, she doesn't need a significant other to be happy, but dammit, she _wants_ that.

She wants that bond, that sense of intimacy; the feeling of being completely, totally open to another person.

She thought she had that, once. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and she shakes her head. Oh, Spirits, not _today._

Well, not _this_ version of today.

The thought is so ridiculous she starts giggling.

"Is the rice wine that good?"

She spins around to find herself face to face with a chest. She trails her eyes upwards to find a pair of gold eyes smiling down at her. She smiles back.

"Zuko!" Her voice comes out a little unsteady. Kind of like her hand, actually, which wobbles so her drink sloshes around dangerously in her glass.

Fingers wrap around her wrist to still her hand, and her skin tingles where he touches her. She idly wonders if he's bending.

"Hey, Katara," she hears the slight amusement in his voice, "what do you we put that glass down and dance a little, hm?"

She nods. "Only if you promise to hold me up for a while." She stands on her tip-toes to whisper conspiratorially, "I'm not sure I'd be able to stand very well right now. I _might_ have had a little too much to drink." She bursts into snickers.

Zuko pulls her close, and her laughter dies almost immediately. "I promise," he whispers in her ear.

His hand is warm against her back and his chest is hot against her cheek. She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the strands at his nape. One of her hand strays to lightly trace his scar, and he leans ever so lightly into her touch.

She closes her eyes, humming along to the music. They sway on the spot.

"Katara. There's something going on, I'm not sure-"

Her eyes snap open when a wave of nausea overcomes her. Oh _shit._

 _"_ Sorry, I… " She clamps a hand over her mouth and rushes to throw up behind the closest tree.

She remembers someone wrapping a coat around her shoulders, and Toph's half-pitying, half-exasperated ' _Oh, Sweetness_ ' before darkness greets her blissfully like an old friend.

* * *

 _ **Taste**_

"Wake up, Sugar Queen."

Oh, for Tui's sake.

Katara buries her face in her pillow to muffle her screams.

No rice wine tonight, she swears to herself. She needs all her wits to figure out _what the hell_ is going on.

She feels like she's going mad. She doesn't understand how this is possible. Having the exact same interactions with the same people for four days in a row, it's _insane._ She recalls her earlier mechanical conversations with Suki and Toph at the spa, pretending to discover her dress for the first time this afternoon, and gasping along with the others at its beautiful texture.

She rubs her temple in exhaustion. She supposes, though, there could be _worse_ days on which she could find herself stuck in a loop.

Fingers wrap around her elbow and tug lightly.

"Katara. I need to talk to you."

She doesn't have time to answer Zuko as he pulls her in a secluded part of the park and guides her to the closest stone bench.

"Now, I _know_ you're going to think I'm crazy, but hear me out." Gold eyes glint at her in the moonlight, searching her own blue ones frantically. "Something weird is going on. It feels like… I've been living the same day over and over again."

Something stutters in Katara's chest, and she bites her lip. Oh, _Tui_ , someone gets it. And a new realization dawns on her.

"And yes- I know this sounds insane, but every single interaction I have during the day is the same as the day before. Except-"

"For you. I know."

His eyes widen. "You've been going through the same thing too? Why? What's going on?"

She shakes her head, sighing. "I don't know. But, _Spirits_ , Zuko, I'm so glad I'm not alone in this."

"Yeah." He glances at her, and shares a lopsided smile. "Figures we'd end up stuck in a loop during your brother's wedding."

Katara snorts. "Huh, I'm starting he might have done this on purpose. Make us bask in his glory for as long as possible."

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins at the rare sound. She plays with the hem of her dress for a moment, to find Zuko staring at her when she looks up.

"What?"

He licks his lips. "You…you _do_ look stunning, you know." He scoots a little closer, hesitantly. "If there was one good thing to come out of this whole ordeal, it's that I got to see you looking like _that_ for days."

Something twists in her lower abdomen, and she fidgets on the bench.

"Zuko."

 _I feel a great romance for you. He's a very powerful bender._

He stills. She recognizes, beneath his carefully constructed facade of control, the simmering fire that rests just beneath the surface. It's something that has always fascinated her. "Katara, if you don't want-"

He's so far off she wants to laugh, but she wants to kiss him more, because it's so typically _Zuko_. She surges forward, locking one hand behind his neck and pulling him close. He tastes of rice wine and spice, and the waterbender finds that she just can't quite get enough.

It takes her a few minutes to remember exactly where they were, and she feels a pang of guilt. "Maybe," she manages to squeeze out between kisses, "we should- try- to get back- to the wedding?"

"To be fair," he whispers against her lips, "we've been to their wedding four times now."

She hums when his lips travel down her neck, her breath hitches when he leaves a small nip. "Got a point there."

She pulls away, resting her forehead against his. The taste of fireflakes lingers on her lips.

 _Just a little push._

Cupping his face in her hands, she traces his scar with her nose until her lips rest against his ear. "In that case, my place isn't too far."

He shivers beneath her palms.

* * *

 _ **Sound**_

Katara wakes up with the feel of a warm body against her back, the weight of an arm draped across her waist and a foot pressed against her calf. Soft, steady breaths tickle her neck, and she smiles as the body shifts and pulls her closer, his fingers curling slightly against her ribs.

It's real. This is _real_.

"Good morning."

Zuko's voice is rough with sleep, and it sends a thrill down her spine. She tugs him closer, pressing his palm against her stomach.

He emits a small groan, and she closes her eyes at the sound. His lips brush against her shoulder and his fingers begin tracing circles against her skin.

Suddenly, he stills behind her. She's about to ask him what was wrong when he sighs, inching closer to her.

"Can't believe I waited so long to say this." His voice is a soft murmur in her ear. "It's easier when you're asleep, I guess. I've always been a bit of a coward when it comes to these things."

Fingers reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Spirits, Katara. I've been in love with you for so long, I-"

She gives up all pretense at sleeping, twisting beneath him to stare into his wide, golden eyes, and threads her fingers through his hair to pull him down for a hard kiss. She can't stop the smile that spreads across her face, or that strange feeling in her chest that keeps on expanding until she feels like she's going to burst. "You _do_ have a way with words," she whispers, as her heartbeat pounds in her ears, "but right now, I'd _really_ like it if you could put that talented mouth of yours to good use."

Katara barely catches the almost-bashful smirk that crosses his lips before Zuko buries his face into her neck and she surprises herself with the sounds that escape her mouth.

— —

She still isn't sure what happened over the past few days, but she's not sure it matters.

In any case, she doesn't forget, later that morning, to send a quick mental thank you to the Fates for that _little push._


End file.
